


^6 -jsP *l.X*:* ^'^ 



i7 






•^^ 



^'-^^^ •" 









» ( 



^^ 



Vv^ 


















'0^ 


















V 



^'^ ^«v 







r. ^o v^ 









.0^ 







^6^ 




•« ■or ^ "^i^*^'* *■ x? .''^^^* ^4^ 














'^Kx^ 



^ 



.r'lhJu/ 






CO IPTTU- I CS-HT, 1882, B "X^ 
EDWIN MAYS. 
All rights reserved. \ 



oj»io«> 



AUSTIN, TEXAS : 

STATESMAN STEAM BOOK AND JOB OFFICE. 

1882. 



t^^^^- 



-S^l^» 



AND OTHER POEMS. 



-f'o 






The Convict. 



3t«iO 



PAET FIRST. 



Now blooming Spring is young. The black bird calls 

Unto his mate outside my prison walls. 

The sun begins to build his flaming arch, 

And morning ushers in the first of March. 

But Spring is old within my withered soul — 

So old, she seems not in her common role ; 

So old, she Summer seems, and Summer's breeze 

Is cooled by early Autum's chilly wheeze. 

And Autum's falling leaves smite Winter's snow, 

And o'er them all the cold winds blow, and blow. 

But Winter over laps both Spring and Fall 

And casts on each young hope an icy pall. 

Thus round and round they always backward go, 

Each previous season always growing slow 

And each succeeding season gaining speed, 

In order to o'er lap with hasty greed, 

Till icy Winter overtops tiiem all, 

And then her deadening tentacles lets fall — 

Pell hate, intense remorse and deep despair— 

And feels about, and in my heart, and there. 

With deadly cold and horrid, fateful clasp, 

Summer, Kail and Spring, they, eager grasp, 

Aud hold them fast within a frozen vice 

Till all become one solid block of ice. 

And they all go hurrying round, and ever 

Comes Winter, Winter, Winter, Winter, 

Each season colder than the one before, 

Until my heart sends forth warm life no more 

Thro' out my veins, but at each beat I die 

And feel my hueless blood all vitrify 

With horror. And between each beat I live 



THE CONVICT. 



In constant, yearning hope that death will give 

Perpetual stillness to my aching heart 

And freeze its gates so tight they'll never start. 

II. 

How black the night of gloom that hangs about my soul^ 
On which the fiends of hell my guilty burden roll ! 
Oh, that I ne'er had done the dark and awful deed ! 
The demon, Passion, would not tho'ts of prudence heed. 
He spoke a word which roused in me relentless hate ; 
He spoke a word which doomed his life, and sealed his 

fate. 
I tho't him viler than the serpent who betrayed 
The trustful confidence of Eve, and thereby made 
A broad and tempting road from paradise to hell, 
Which Eve and Adam trod, and which we love too well. 
But even in his death, when rose the ashen hue, 
He lovely seemed, and sweet, as when I deemed him true. 
He always was my fav'rite ideal of a man 
Until the news that he was false I learned from Ann, 
AVhose truthfulness I could no easier suspect 
Than noonday light, alho' the sky with clouds beflecked. 
'Twas hard to think that he would vilify my name. 
But 'twas impossible her faithfulness to blame, 
I could not doubt her word, and therefore sinned a sin 
Whose awfulness so stuns me, when I glance within 
The book of my past life, and see its bloody leaf, 
I scarce think upon it, and not die with grief. 

III. 

Remorse's sting is fiercer than Death's dart, 
For, when a dart is flung, it's pain is short. 
But many aching throes a sting creates. 

IV. 

1. 

'Tis hard my allotted time to bid ; 
A horrid friend stands by my side, 
Nor ever leaves my sight, 
But thrusts into my soul a rough-edged knife. 



THE CONVICT. 



And then withdraws, and thrusts again. 

Thus am I always racked with pain 
That lasts all day, all night. 
Whose weakness makes it with more terror rife, 
Because its mis'ry caDnot vanquish life. 



This fiend, tremendous, holds me fast, 
And glares with horrid eyes so vast. 
That fear and dread consume me. 
His only weapon is the knife, made rough 
To torture hearts more perfectly. 
Thus am I tilled Avith misery 
To which my own sins doom me, 
And not till death will vengence cry "enough," 
Or stay Remorse's pitiless rebuff. 



PART SECOND. 

I. 1. 

Mankind is always duped by woman's wiles ; 
His love blind eyes see naught in her but honey. 
Until the great eye-opener, matrimony. 

Reveals her traits, his angel dreams defiles. 

2. 

But even then she ever has her way ; 

Apparently conceding to his will, 

She rules him with persuasive skill. 
And with obedient sceptre holds her sway. 

II. 

•Tis strange that I should lose my faith in him, 
My dearest friend, long loved and often tried ! 

^Tis strange that I should let a foolish whim 
Cause me no longer in him to confide. 



THE CONVICT. 



III. 

To the liappy, careless days of youth, take me back, take 
me back, Oh, Time ! 
I feel the warm glow of my life's summer days, 
And blissfully bask in sweet Memory's haze 
Which reveals loved scenes, so long forgot, and my hap- 
piest years, my prime. 

IV. 1. 

Ah, well I mind those happy times gone by, 
And gone forever, for no more shall we, 

As brothers dear, go to and from the school, 
Nor in our books to excel each other try, 
Nor help each other 'gainst an enemy 

Or one who told when e'er we broke the rule. 



We called him "Handsome Rufus" then, and well ; 
For Beauty sat with wondrous sj^mmetry 
And comeliness upon his form and face. 
His gentle manners always would compel 
From those who knew him, envious jealousy 
Or friendship, which to love soon grew apace — 
From strangers, comments on his supple grace. 



Nor did this notice serve to turn his head ; 

He always called me "Brother," and looked up 
With trustful love into my eyes, as tho' 
His sole protection there alone he read ; 

For he was oft attacked and pommeled by a group 
Of bullies, who were moved with envy low. 
And alwaj^s would I hasten to the throng 
And quick disperse them all ; for I was strong. 



One day he heard a larger boy than he 
Tell boastingly a monstrous lie on me, 
And straightway said 'twas false, and struck him hard^ 



THE CONVICT. 



But, being small and weak, was overpowered. 

From that time forth I watched these youthful roughs 

And saved Ruf many cruel kicks and cuffs ; 

For never would he cry, nor call foi^aid, 

Nor come and tell me when they hurt him bad. 

^' 

We had no secrets that were not divulged 
With confidence, into each other's ears, 

Except those secrets which we would not own 

Were ours, but sought, unconsciously, with tears. 



I loved him as I never loved false Ann ; 
She was our school mate, pretty, bright and smart 
I loved her, and she trifled with my heart, 

Tho' thentho't my love-course smoothly ran. 

7. 

She looked at me with mischief in her eye. 
And, tho' I then had no such tho't, nor knew. 
Being passion-blind, but that she loved me true,, 

She looked at him with love ; but he was shy. 



PART THIRD. 
I. 



Years have flown, and my love still glows 
Youth has gone, and my flame still grows. 

II. 



The last letter she wrote was so sweet that I tho't 

She sorrowed that we were apart ; 
And I'll write her this eve, and I'll ask her to leave- 

Th' old village, and come to my h«art. 



THE CONVICT. 



2. 

This is a secret Rutf us has not shared ; 
He's such a tease, I never yet have dared 
To vrhisper in his friendly ears my hopeful fate- 
He seems so blithe and happy, here of late ! 



I'll write a note this eve — I'll write a note to Ann ; 
-And then. ray mind relieve by telling Ruf my plan. 

III. 

Was it a dream ''. Oh, joy ! It loas a dream. 

Again, oh, joy ! That dreams are not realities, 

For how, how could I live in peacefulness 

When life had gone, my friend, from out your breast, 

How could I live '\ 

■How could my blood not cease to swell my veins 

When I behold her blood slow oozing forth 

From out her mouths And then, oh, dreadful tho't! 

To feel upon my wrists the murderer's bracelets 

And know that I had slain ye both — Avaunt ! 

Ye horrid visions, leave my troubled mind ! 

Why troubled ? I am tilled with mystery. 

Why did he gasp and stare, and clutch the air, and pale 

When I had told him of my hopeful fate % 

What did that letter mean he dropped, which read 

So lovingly, and signed, ''Your sweet-heart, Ann?" 

She spoke to him of me as only friend — 

What can it mean '. I'm tilled with mystery. 

IV. 

1. 

Rufus has lost all his glee ; now he does not notice me. 

Studiously he shuns to see my curious looks, to know — 
why he 

So strangely did last night at tea — I'd sooner hunt a nim- 
ble ilea ! 

I hope no fate has said that we shall brothers dear no 
longer be. 



THE CONVICT. 



I cannot meet him on the street, 
Nor can I beat his pace so fleet. 

3. 

I hate these offish wa.ys of Euf — 

What ails the man ! I'm much preplexed. 
Ann loves him, for I saw the proof — 

Why does he mope? I'm almost vexed. 

4. 

If Ann loves him, and he loves Ann, 
Why— let him take her, and be glad ; 

E'en tho' it cause my cheek to wane, 
E'en tho' I know 'twill drive me mad. 



V. 



I feel a great grief o'er me creeping ; 
I hear my poor heart sadly weeping : 



"Oh, for a quiet nook, in which to dwell. 

Free from care ! 
Some favored spot ; some lone, secluded dell, 
In which to hide away, where none can tell 
The woes of man to nip, and break the spell, 

Sweet and rare. 



"Oh, for an eagle's wings, that I might fly 

From broken hearts ! 
The race I dwell with is a race that die — 
Yea, 'tis a race that long for death and sigh, 
And in its flood the pain to quench they try 

Of fiery darts! 



10 THE CONVICT. 



"Oh, for the speed of lightening ! I would haste 

From all pain ; 
No more the woes of blighted love to taste, 
No more my strength in doleful grief to waste, 
No more to have my hopes, tho' pure and chase, 

All in vain !" 

VI. 

1. 

I said to my weeping and sore, bleeding heart, 
"Why wither away, tho' in pain as thou art? 

It' s better to live than to die. 
It's better to hope than despair, is it not? 
Then why do you pine for a happier lot ? 

The star of your hope is too high. 

2. 

"Insatiable hunger, your pangs are in vain, 
Is friendship, true friendship, a thing to obtain 

From every fair daughter of Eve ? 
To gain but a smile from an angel like her 
Were happiness, such as you ought to prefer 

To mis'ry. Then why do you grieve?" 



The body, obedient, is governed by will ; 
But love for my idol continued to thrill 

The strings of my heart in refrain. 
I wept as they vibrated fiercely and fast. 
While played on by sorrow, so deep and so vast, 

It seemed that despair was the strain : 

4. 

"Go, tell the eagle, ' Make your nest 

Not high, but in the vale ; 
goar not aloft, but come and rest. 

Secure from every gale.' 



THE CONVICT. H 



" Say thou to smoke, ' Rise not above, 
To fleecy clouds, 'Descend.' 

Then tell me not to seek her love, 
But call her only ' friend ! ' " 



PART FOURTH. 

I. 1. 

I tho't to hear from Ann, long since ; 
'Twill cause, I fear, my heart to wince — 
Her letter, when it comes. 

2. 

i 

The summer days aweary grow. 

'Tis true, my fate I almost know, 
L And hope's bright star seems sickly faint, 
* Yet visions bright I try to paint. 

And try to think 'twill make me feel 

More cheerful, and my sore heart heal — 
Her letter, when it comes. 



I tho't I felt my heart's last blow, 
But still it beats, but beats so slow, 
And smites so weak upon m}^ breast 
That Echo answers, " Give nae rest ! " 
Betw^een the strokes, so slight, so slight- 
' Twill cheer my heart to-night, to-night- 
Her letter, when it comes. 



Last night I heard the croaking frogs 

Down in the slimy, marshy bogs, 

And they seemed to croak of deep despair ; 

But soon, upon the slumbrous air 

Crept the soft notes of a nightengale, 



12 THE CONVICT. 



And then, from beliind a cloudy veil, 
Burst forth and shone a brilliant star — 

But I tho't it was a tear ; 
And the nightengale seemed so far, so far, 

And the croaking frogs so near ! 
I hope 'twill drive despair away. 
And cause to break perpetual day 
Within my heart. What will it say — 
Her letter, when it comes ? 

II. 1. 

A mocking bird entered ray window to-day. 
He had not the manners to bow, and to say, 

" Good morning, I hope you are well, sir?" 
But sat, indisdain, upon top of the clock 
And looked like he wondered whence came the " ticl 
tock," 

But would not say, ''Won't you please tell, sir 1 " 

2. 

In silence I watched him, and, listening, lay, 
Expecting a favor, and hoping he'd stay 

Until I should hear his sweet warble. 
My hopes were in vain ; for his eyes fell on me, 
And then thro' the window, and out to a tree 

He flew, tho' I lay still as marble. 

3. 

A black bird flew into my window to-day. 
He seemed quite polite, and endeavored to say, 

" Grood afternoon ; I hope you are well sir?" 
But cracked was his voice, and, instead of this speech 
He uttered a horrible, ear-splitting screech 

That sounded like " Hope you may quell sir ! " 



I waited no longer, but arose from my bed 
And drove him away to relieve my poor head. 

Then, pensive, returned to my couch, 
Reflecting and pond'ring on bungling mankind, 



THE COlSrVICT. 



13 



Who know not the place where their talents can find, 
And feel the appreciative touch. 



While thns I compared my two callers to man, 
And fancy thro' realms of dark imagery ran, 

Two spirits stood close to my bed. 
The countenance of one had a sad, heavy look. 
And one was so radiant my eyes could not brook 

Her splendor. The sad faced one said : 

6. 

" Sweet sister-spirit, can there be 
Aught good on earth that he can see ? " 
The radiant spirit thus replied, 
"Let hope be his. He is but tried.'' 



They hushed, but their lute-strings continued to thrill 
My ears with delight, and my sore heart to fill 

With the soothing and comforting strain. 
Th^n I tho't that both lutes tried to play the same tune 
Sad wailings, rejoicings, were blended in one, 

But the music dispelled all my pain. 



The spirits and lutes disappeared, but the song 
Was loud as before, and the notes just as strong. 

For there, on the clock, tho' removed 
Prom its place in the morning, was sitting again, 
The very same bird, for his plumage and mien 

And the perch, his identity proved. 

9. 

Not only he sat, but poured from his throat 
A song that enraptured my soul, and 1 tho't 

Of the words the bright spirit bad spoken. 
And said, "Yes, I'll hope, rill I reach the bright goal. 
As the bird has returned, so, in heaven, my soul 

May find rest when the last sleep is broken. 



14 THE CONVICT. 



III. 

My dream and my callers clearly prove 
That Ann is but trying my true love. 

ly. 

Her letter has come, and I'll now know my fate ; 
I'm longing to know, tho' the hour be late. 

And the sweet smelling missive to read. 
It's odor brings hope, and it softens my smart — 
The sweet scented letter I press to my heart, 

And it joyfully quickens its speed. 

y. 1. 

And this is friendship 1 Can it be true that he 
Has stooped so low, and, jealous, slandered me ! 
Can it be true i 

2. 

My brother, is it true 'I Oh, tell me nay ! 
And yet, could I believe thee, if thou shoulds't say 
That it is false ? 



If I could, my mind would say she lied ; 
A glowing fire burns on either side — 
Which shall I quench 1 



The fountain of my trust can quench but one ; 
I feel its flowing, rushing tide all run 
Upon the hottest. 

The tho' t that Ann would lie, my heart denies ; 

To think him true, who was my friend, it tries, 

But tries in vain. 



THE CONVICT. 15 



TI. 1. 

Palse ! He's false ! My friend is false, 

But Ann believes him true. 
Fierce ! Im fierce ! My temper fierce 

Sucli tlio'ts as these undo. 

2. 

He thinks to win her heart with ease 
And steal her love away from me— 
The rogue ! By tearing down my honor' s reputation. 
His lying tongue and honied pleas, 
Their falsness behind hypocrisy, 
Have blackened my good name with low insinuation. 



PAKT FIFTH. 

I. 1. 

My mirror <ir my visage has changed w^onderfully, 
Or else, my eyesight has grown treacherous ; 
Or else, I have not waked from horror's fantasy ; 
For he who looks at me from out my mirror, 
Whene'er I dare to face him, seems to stare 
Thro' his sunken eyes with horrid, insane glare. 
His cheeks are cavernous ; his bones protrude ; 
His skin sticks to him like a new^-washed rag 
Thrown on a jagged, sapless limb to dry. 
Has deep repentance caused his cheek to fade 
Before the awf ulness of his great guilt ? 
Whose guilt ? And for what henious crime ? 
That shadow surely can' t perform an act 

Or good, or bad. 
But his hideous face will soon, I fear, distract 

And drive me mad. 
For, if that spectre's guilty, then am I. 
But maybe 'tis an untrue likeness — no, 
It must be true, for I can see refiected 
The picture at my back upon the wall. 



16 THE CONVICT. 



Oh, lovely face ! Your roundness still remains 

In the picture at my back upon the wall ; 
It alone your beauty still retains. 

Oh, once my friend ! No more I'll hear you call 
Me by the name of "Brother," for the light 
Has lied from your bright eyes, no longer bright 
With friendliness, as they were wont to be. 
But glazed and set with leaden vacancy. 

3. 

The mirror must be true — cruelly true ; 
And, even if 'twere not, my liaggaTdness 
Of mind and heart reveals to me my guilt. 

II. 

'Tis time his hands, which often gave 
An untrue grasp, were folded tight 
Across the Devil' s shrine. 
I wonder if, while in the grave. 

They press his soul as heavy quite, 
As his blood presses mine. 

III. 1. 

Strange ! That a slanderer's blood should press 

So heavily upon my soul. 
Because he would not e'en confess 

That he had said I loved the bowl. 



Oh, Fate ! Fate ! Fate ! Is it thy decree I hate ? 
Or my own blind passion, 

So ruthlessly loosed 
In so lenient a fashion, 

And easy seduced ? 



1 hate the fate that made us meet ; 
I hate my temper, indiscref^t. 



THE CONVICT. 17 



4. 

He saw me not, but walked with downcast look, 

And seemed ashamed, and when I saw his grace 
I forgave him his sin 
And loved him again ; 
For I remembered hearing him invoke. 

When the moon-beams shone as bent his nptnrned face, 
The one bright star he always claimed as his 

To ever bi ightl}^ shine upon us twain ; 
And i remembered hearing the spiteful whiz 

Of a bullet over my head, aimed at my brain, 
But turned from its intended murderous course 

By Rufus' hand. And then my sight grew dim 
As tears welled up from my heart, their swelling source, 

And I hated myself for ever hating him. 

5. 

When I spoke his name, he looked up with a start, 
And his weary looks, and paleness touched my heart. 

6. 

I told him how unhappy I had been 

Since learning that he'd written such a letter. 
But now I hoped we'd happier be, and better, 

For my heart forgave him of his sin. 

7. 

At that word,, sin, he looked at me with wonder. 
Feigned, of course, and, staring, seemed to ponder 
On the meaning of my words, and said. 
While "Hypocrite" in every glance I read, 



" My brother, could you see my heart 
And feel, as I have felt, its smart. 
And know the cause of its keen pain, 
You'd never doubt my love again. 



18 THE CONVICT. 



'^' I have but one dear friend on earth, 
And you are he ; oh ! W hat a dearth 
Has been within my lonelj'^ breast 
Until my hand you just now pressed 1 

10. 

"That friendly pressure said to me 
That we could still dear brothers be. 
But what can mean that word you used ? 
Is love a sin, unless abused 1 " 

11. 

His words rang with a guilty ring 
And pierced me witli a wrathful sting. 
His honied words which maddened me 
Rang with a conscious falsity. 

12. 

I gave Ann' s letter to him, straight, 
And watched with scorn and glowing hate 
The pallor which o'er spread his face, 
The pallor of shameful helpfulness. 

13. 

He read it, flung it down, and said she lied, 

To turn and liee temptation hard I tried. 

He looked at me and said she lied, again. 

And fiercely said it o'er and o'er, and then, 

I know not what I did, nor ever will. 

He lay upon the pavement, white and still. 

His brains and blood mixed with his wavy hair. 

And his stick was in my hand, how came it there ? 

I looked upon the golden ball and read, 

Thro' blood and brains and hair, his name, and said, 

"Revenge is sweet !" Ah, God ! I felt it not, 

But felt upon my soul a murderous blot. 



THE CONVICT. 19 



14. 

I fled away, and no one knew nor tlio't, 
That I, his friend, the awful deed had wro' t. 

lY. 1. 

Oh, words ! Ye are too weak ; 

And my tongue is palsied, so I cannot speak ; 

Nor can I utter with my lips the dreadful tale. 

I would not, yet must, think — she's dead ! And he was 

true ! 
I've murdered him, my friend, for what he did not do. 
And I've seen the blood flow from her mouth, and her 

red cheeks pale ! 



Oh, dream ! Why come again ? 

Dreams are realities — it vi^as too plain. 

And will I feel upon my wrists the iron bands? 

I'm doomed I I'm doomed! I'm doomed! To what^ 

Oh, joy, to death ! 
Again, oh, joy ! For life is but a dream — a path 
Thro' dreary wastes of sighing trees and weary lands, 
And, as we walk, behind us fall away the sands. 

3, 

Oh fate ! Thou al-t too hard — 

To give him a name which angels, jealous, guard — 

To give her cur of a cousin a name which means so much, 

Beauty, friendship, constancj^ purity, sacrifice — Rufus ! 

It meant all this to me, and it means it in heaven above 

us ; 
But her cur of a cousin blackens it with his infamous 

touch. 

4. 

Oh, what a poor excuse for a man ! 
He accused me of a thing I did not do, 
And for a thing he did not do, my friend I sle v, 

And thereby slew the coquette, Ann ; 



20 THE CONVICT. 



For when she heard that Rufus was no more 

She died, and fell prostrate upon the floor ; 

And her heart' s blood bro' t these words, as it rose to her 
month, with a spurt, 
"1 loved you not. I loved him — love him yet f 
And I mnrmured, as her form I raised, "Coquette." 

'Tis thus that her own snares have caught the cruel flirt. 



Oh, Vengeance ! Thou has turned 

Thy wrath upon him, and his vengeance spurned. 

He sought to take revenge for my official sentence 

By sland'ring me to his cousin Ann, but now, repentance, 

ISJot for his sin, but for its awful consequence. 

Moves his tears. I'll on some false, tho' strong pretence 

Make use of my influence as a judge 

To have a sweet revenge — ah ! T7ds will be sweet !. 

Is Rufus not his name i The stick ! Oh, fudge ! 

What trouble in making the arguments all meet? 

y. 1. 

He' s standing here before me now 

To receive his sentence of death from me. 

The forman of the jury has said 
That they have found him plainly to be 
Guilty of murder, but his brow 

Betray s no guilt, but there, instead, 
Is conscious, innocence and dread. 



But I will punish him — punish him sore ; 
He laid a dead snake at my door. 
And it shall spring into life and crush 
His lying throat, and his slander hush. 

VI. 1. 

Ye clanking chains and bare, damp walls of gloom, 
What bro't me here ? Speak out, ye grated bars, 
And tell me— do ye let the light shine in 
Between ye willingly, or do ye begrudge 



THE CONVICT. 21 



Me this small boon, and seek to shadow o'er 

A part of my lone jail with black marks, 

And thereby also cast a gloomy woe 

TIpon my grieving, lacerated soul ? 

Would that I could skip the narrow lines 

Of iron shade, and look alone upon 

The broad, white light between ! But ah, I can't ; 

My soul is cut into strips that ever shift. 

With every restless motion, to a plane 

Exactly parallel with those black lines — 

Would tiiat I could weep ! Why shun me. tears ? 

Why not rush forth from sorrow's fount, too full 'i 

I feel ye come, but terror has so parched 

Mine eyelids, that ye hiss and vaporize. 

Oh, cruel bars ! Ye tell me I am doomed. 

My clanking chains seek not to sooth my heart 

With cheerful music, but to rack my brain 

With never ceasing rattle, and remind 

Me, who would fain forget, of my dark crime. 

These mouldy walls are not to shield, but keep. 

This untouched food is given, not in sympathy — 

A tho't so kind it's coarseness would forbid — 

But with a grudging hand, to bolster life. 

That it may fly from this poor human house, 

Whose rickety frame is shaken, not with age. 

But by the heavy bolts of lightening, hurld 

Unsparingly from cursed memry' s hand, 

'On pinnoRs heavier laden, e'en than now, 

With cumbrous moisture, dank with bloody shame. 

What bro't me here ? What e'er I see replies 

That 'twas my crime, and not my sacrifice. 
'True, this dark cell would ne'er have heard my tread 
Had I not entered voluntarily 
'To let him, innocent of my dark crime, 
A little longer breathe free air until 
His blackened heart shall bring him to this place ; 
But then, if I had never done the deed. 
My sacrifice need not have been for him. 
Too heavy now with base falsehoods and deeds 
'Of shame and blood, to 'scaDefrom sinking down 

Thro' the thickest filth of hell. 

Why did I cheat the De'il? 
What bro't me here? Not love for him I saved. 
What bro't me here ? 'Twas mem'ry's pangs, remorse. 



22 THE CONVICT. 



2. 

Point not with sympathetic glance to hope — 
It' s beams are bright, but never bright for me. 
Say not that love will soothe this aching pain — 
My blackened name denies to me this boom. 
Remind me not of happy days gone by — 
The contrast makes my present pains more keen. 
Hint not to me that I may 'scape my doom — 
I long for death, and yet mast try to live 
If life is possible for me to keep ; 
For, much as I loathe this present state of woe, 
I tremble more with terror when I gaze 
Into the dark, uncertain future of that soul, 
Who, impatient, waits not for his summons, 
But breaks his Maker's law in shedding blood, 
And, heedless, risks a leap to worlds unknown 
And thinks to fly against the gate of heaven 
With such great purpose as to crush it in ; 
But his great guilt weighs down his soul so low 
That hell's huge portal feels the welcome shock 
And grants a vict'ry to his mad attempt 

And easy makes the entrance to the flames. 

Seek not to cheer me with the tho't of life — - 

Whene'er I dream of possible escape 

I also dream of loaded pistols, knives, 

Poisons, rivers deep and many dark 

And secret ways of ending my own life. 

And when I feel the tempter's urging prod, 

'Tis then I feel a strong attractive power 

For Hades' gloom ; and all the infernal imps 

Combine their hellish wits and powder to win 

My tortured spirit to their fiery realms. 

Then Reason flies before the approach of Death, 

And fierce Despair her customed throne usurps. 

I like not this attraction towards hell ; 

Then speak tome no more of 'scaping death. 

VII. 1. 

My would-be friends have snatched me from the longed- 
for death, 
And placed me in a living tomb, where no pure breath 
Can be inhaled ; for 'tis inhabited with knaves 
Just like myself; and our cells resemble mouldy caves. 



childhood's days. 23 



Oh. cruel kindness ! Life ! For life ! They call this life ! 
I call it deaths — a hundred deaths each day, and rife 
With dread remembrances, and hateful scenes of strife 
Between the brutal keepers, and the subborn slaves — 
Yes, slaves in Freedom' s land ! Far better in tlieir graves. 

3. 

But hush, complaining spirit ; 'tis the hand of God, 
The paths of misery must by my feet be trod ; 
Then let me walk with patience paths I can't avoid — 
Perhaps vi\j pangs at last, thro' grace will be alloyed. 



Childhood's Days. 



1. 



This lovely afternoon I passed the dear old place 
Which nothing from my mind, but Death, can e'er efface. 



It looked not like the same, the dear old place of youth 
For Negligence was tliere, and there the hand of sloth. 



My heart cried out against the ravages of Age 

As back, thro' tears, I looked o' er life' s uneven page. 



I sought to trace resemblance to the past — in vain ! 
Fond of Mem' ry, give, oh ! Grive me youthful eyes £ 



again 



24 CHrLDIIOOD's DAYS, 



5. 

Let me descend the rugged back of grizzly Time, 
And, Dante-like, ascend unto a happier clime. 

6. 

Or, rather, let me ily on Memory's easy wings, 

And skip the cares which each successive hour brings 



Comes now before my eyes, as I with Joy revert 

To childhood's happy days, a youthful face, and pert. 



I see an urchin sit, bare-legged, upon the fence ; 
His lazy mien betrays his faults, but not his sense. 



Of sunburnt skin, his clothing, full of ugly rents, 
An ample view affords, and straight reveals his bents. 

10. ■ 

I see a likeness, in his saucy face, to me, 

For well I mind how good-for-naught I used to be. 

11. 

How often have I swung upon the cow^-pen gate 
Until 'twas time to loose the calf, content to wait. 

12. 

My task of churning was not half complete, as yet. 
And want of kitchen wood was making mother fret. 

13. 

On churning and on chopping wood I looked with scorn, 
But chanced, with ear acute, to hear the dinner horn. 



childhood's days. 25 



14. 

And wlien the men whom pa, to help him work, had hired, 
■Came from the field, aJl soiled with labor hard, and tired, 

15. 

And took their places round the table, spread with care, 
Their grimy looks, my appetite, could never mar. 

16. 

Papa would brin^ me many gifts, and call me smart, 
For dear mama, to tell my faults, had not the heart. 

17. 

And thus she always shielded me from my deserts, 
And doctored patiently my many little hurts. 

18. 

Each morn, the mischief the day would fill my head ; 
Each night, my clamorous bawl was heard, when sent to 
bed. 

19. 

Of mother's very life I was the plague and joy ; 

1 caused her many cares, but then, she loved her boy. 

20. 

Would that I now could call her from the silent grave 
And tell my penitence, and ask her to forgive ! 

21. 

Por when I was yet young, she died, with life a weary, 
And left the old farm house all desolate and dreary. 



The tlio't would oft recur, and cause a bitter tear, 
That I had helped to make her life so hard to bear. 



26 childhood's days. 



23. 

The thing we call good-luck, good fortune never is ; 
And is prosperity good- luck ^i Myself I quiz. 

24. 

A life that has no cares, refreshing joys ne'er tastes '^ 
Oases charming seem, because of desert wastes. 

26. 

Unthankful for the land, till on the ocean vast 

By tempests tossed, we shout to see the shore at last, 

26. 

Life's but a game of hide-and-seek with Fortune played. 
And rarely, for our arduous search, we're ever paid. 

27. 

And if we do successful prove, and Fortune find 
Then eager zest lor fresh pursuits employs the mind, 

28. 

Oh, me ! I long for rest from endless longings vain, 
I'm tired of bring tired of life — this life of pain. 

29. 

The lilly droops her head, and not again looks up ; 
The cowslip folds but once the petals of her cup. 

30. 

But once remorseless Time from each our youth will sever. 
And withering cares supplant its Joys, now gone forever. 

31. 

Unmindful that the wax is spluttering in the sconce, 

To Night, I long complain that youth is known but once. 



LOVE IS LIFE. 3T 



Love is Life. 



To exist is not to live ; 

The coral and medusae of the ocean exist, 
But no throb can their hearts ever give, 
For they lia\7e no hearts. A heavy mist 
Hangs o'er their minds, vrith nothing rife ;; 
They love not, not live ; for love is life. 

2. 

Let me not, like them, be void of joy — 
Let me live. 
But let me, like them, fill well my place, 
Let me dive 
Into the ocean, and deploy 
Amongst its wonders for a space. 
And learn with patience to run my race, 
And to fight with love in the bitter strife- 
'Twixt right and wrong ; for love is life. 



'No intellect nor talent is required 
To float upon the silvery wave 
Of simple being. 

In the light of pleasure's golden sun, 
Reclining on cushions of lustful ease. 
With flowers of selfishness around. 
Man's soul with manly purpose should be fired ; 
'Tis seemly that his will should brave. 
By wisely fleeing, 

The Tempter's wiles. A vict'ry won 
O'er carnal desires, will his conscience please,. 
And no more will he look upon the ground,. 
For, when he conquered in the strife, 
He tasted love, and love is life. 



Since man's Creator has endowed 
His creature with so princely gifts. 



^8 LOVE IS LIFE. 



Is it not meet that he be proud ? 

When to the skies 

He turns his eyes, 
And to his God his spirit lifts 
In gratitude, he cries aloud 

"Oh, heaven ! Thy blissful waves I quaff ! 

I love ! I live ! " Ah ! Love is life. 



My soul, can man be satisfied 

With beastly food, and drink the slop 
Of carnal panderings. 
When the food of God is in his hands ? 
Yea, my sou] ! I've seen him hide 
His noble gifts, and, groveling, drop 
The attribute of kings 
And take upon himself the bands 
Of death and hate and endless strife, 
And cease to live, for love is life. 

6. 

Methinks that the heavenly cherubs lean 
Far o'er the bulwarks of the skies 
And look with much astonished gaze 
Upon the wondrous spectacle ! 
Their eyes the shape divine have seen, 
Whose glorious symmetrj^ ne' er dies ; 
What wonder that it should amaze 
A saint, to see a human soul 
Maltreat the image of liis God, 
And sink, condemned, beneath the sod, 
When up to heaven he could have flown? 
What wonder that all hope has gone 

From out his breast ? For in the strife 
He had not love, and love is life, 

7. 

Oh, man ! If yet thou art a man, 
Or, if thou wouldst become a man. 
Pluck thy dowry from the grasp of lust, 
And from th}^ soul vile longings thrust, 
And love ihj^ better self and God ; 



LOVE IS LIFE. 3^" 



Ascend to where, a babe, thou wert, 
To a sinless land, by angel's trod. 

Thyself with Truth's bright armor girt^ 
Be love thy weapon in the strife 
And live, a man ; for love is life. 



Numbers lie beneath the sod. 

Mouldy with decay ; 
And yet they're gone to live with God 

Forever and for aye ; 

But the dead walk side by side each day 
Upon the earth, and claim to live. 

The living and the dead unite. 

And vows of lasting w^edlock plight ; 

Their offspring ma}^ find life, or stay 

In death's cold bonds ; perhaps one may,. 

Thro' love be quickened ; one be slain 

Of hate, and still in death remain ; 

Yet they are children of one mother ; 

She is sister, he is brother. 
And for the dead, there's none to grieve, 

For they seem to conquer in the strife. 

But they loved not Gfod, and this is life. 

9. 

Do thou, then, creature of the dust, 

Love thy God, for this alone 
Can give the eternal flame of triist 
Unto thy breast, and from it thrusfcv 

And bid the carnal heart be gone ; 
'Tis this, alone, that, in the strife. 
Will conquer death ; for love is life. 

10. 

While around thee hover the shades of grief;: 
Lift thou thine eyes, and look thro' faith 

To the flashing gate of heaven ; 
And its glory, borne on a ray of love, 
Will fill thy soul, and from above, 

As from thy Savior given, 
To bless thee in thy valorous strife,, 
Thy life will come ; for. love is life.. 



.30 TO L 



To L 



The dearest idle of my heart, 
Sweet girl, oh, lovely maid, thou art, 

2. 

Ere sipce that beauteous face of thine 
I saw, which, by its power divine, 



Did bind the heart of every one 
Who looked, to thee, and thee alone. 

4. 

I've ever dreamed sweet dreams of bliss 
And sometimes e'en I've dared to kiss 



An angel sweet, who had the face, 

The form, the shape, which thee dotirgrace. 

6. 

But all those blissful dreams were vain, 
For thou wilt not upon me deign 



To lavish one sweet smile, not one ! 
And I am all udone, undone ! 



Love weaves her tendrils round about 
And takes possession of the heart ; 

It struggles in the sweet embrace — 
She clings, nor will from it depart. 



SUSPENSE — DESPAIR. 31 



Suspense. 



1. 



Slow fly the moments as I wait ; 

The draggling hours aweaiy grow. 
I think of what will be my fate 

When Clara writes to let me know. 



I'm getting gloomy with my fears; 

Oh, this suspense ! Worst form of woe. 
A day's a week, and weeks are years. 

Till Clara writes to let me know. 

3. 

Three weeks have drawn their sluggish days 
Above my head, so slow, so slow ! 

I wonder why my love delays — 
Dear Clara, write and let me know. 



D 



ESPAIR. 



1. 

Tired I So tired ! 

My ideal's heart I've long desired ; 
And I would that the restful booths of heaven 
Were nearer my soul, with trouble riven. 



Come ! Come ! Come ! 

And take me to my longed-for home ; 
dome quick, and relieve my pangs, oh, Death ! 
Ah, sweet would blow thy chilling breath ! 



32 A GLANCE. 



3. 

Haste ! Oh, haste ! 

The joys of life I ne'er can taste. 
Heart, and oh, heart, so full of woe, 
My ideal's love thon ne'er canst know. 



Vain ! In vain 

I seek a respite from this pain ! 
And oh, that the one for whom I sigh 
Would love me, ere with grief I die I 



AG 



LANCE. 



My love, my life, why tell me nay ? 
Thine eyes, sweet love, thine eyes say yea, 
Whene'er, my heart to bless, by chance 
Thou toward me dost deign to glance. 

My love, my life, it thrilled my breast ; 
Tliat look, sweet love, thy heart confessed ; 
I read in it my heaven. How sweet, 
Thine eyes, in rapt nous gaze to meet ! 

My love, my life, I could not brook 

The earnestness of that sweet look ; 

I turned my dazzled eyes away. 

And my face seemed sad, but my heart was gay. 

My love, my life, shall I believe 
The words, sweet love, which made me grieve? 
Or were those words, so cruel, spoken 
That by thy heart they might be broken ? 

My love, my life, thine eyes, S3 true 
Thy words, sweet love, so hard undo ; 
For the secret which thy lips would hide 
Thou dos't with trusting look confide. 

My love, my life, say, why, oh ! why 
Wilt thou hide that love for which I sigh,. 
And never speak the word so dear, 
Which, sweet, my love, I long to hear? 



THE STORM. 33 



The Storm. 



Tlie softly sighing, wooing breeze 
Now faintly fans the cheek ; 

And, as it rustles 'mongst the trees. 
Seems thus to sweetly speak : 
'"Tis coming!" 

% 

The slender, graceful, drooping lilly 

And the fragrant rose 
Whisper gently, lowly, stilly 

As the wind their petals blows, 
'"Tis cominor!" 



The lofty peaks that lift their heads 

And kiss the azure sky. 
Look where the wild goat never treads 

And give tlie warning cry : 
*"Tis coming: ! " 



The sultry calm— the glaring heat — 

The oppressive atmosphere 
But make the pulse-strings quicker beat, 

For a voice is ever near : 
"'Tis comino; ! " 



Now, just into the sky their creeps 

A curling, smoky cloud ; 
And above the blue horizon peeps 
A ragged edge of black, that keeps 
Ascending, while from its throat there leaps 

An exulting cry, and loud : 
"I'm coming! " 



34 THE STOEM. 



6. 



A sudden puff of cooling air, 

A rumbling, grumbling sound ; 
A muttering, roaring from afar, 
A growling noise, like distant war — 
Close the door ! The shutter bar ! 

Dry leaves are eddying round and round, 
And the fierce winds shriek, as they try to tear 

The trees from their grasp in the ground, 
''I'm coming ! " 



A sudden pause. No sound is heard 

Save the wJiirrof the wing of a frightened bird. 

Seeking for a shelter. 
The gloom is lit by a blinding flash. 
The silence broken by a crash ; 

And then comes, helter-skelter, 
Rain drops, hail stones, pouring, pelting, 
Beating, sleeting, rattling, melting ; 
And the blazing lightenings never die, 
And the belching thunders in the sky 
Are booming; ! 



"How mighty Nature's arm I" — 

Rattlc-te-bang ! 

The elements clang. 

And tlie lightening thrusts its gleaming fang 
Into the heart of the storm, 
Whose terrible groan of rage and pain 
Reverberates loud again and again 
While down rush tears of sleet and rain ; 
And whose concussion shakes, to their roots, 
The ancient oaks, and with them disputes 

The little land 

On which they stand ; 
And whose mad bolts are split on the spire 
Which up to the region of blackness and tire 
Is looming \ 



TO WIDOW OF A MINISTER. 35 



9. 

The storm -king's rage has all been spent, 

And now, the yellow rays 
Of the setting sun on the? clonds imprint 

A gilded kiss of prais*^, 
Over the East a bow is bent, 
And I gaze, enraptured and intent, 
In the oloaniner. 



To , Widow of a Minister. 



Thou art gone to the land of sweet repose. 
And thy suft'ring soul no longer knows 
The deep pangs of bereavement and sorrow for one 
Who before thee has lied from this earth where he shone, 
Anrj, a pure gem in memory, glows. 



Thou has entered the gatt-^ to lasting joy 
And no more will the cai es of earth annoy 
Thy poor, languishing spirit, forever now flown 
To the realms of sweet rest, where no sorrow is known. 
Thou has found, for thy grief, an alloy. 



Thou art gone to the land of calm delights 
And thy spirit ascends tlie blissful heights 
To again meet thy love, who before thee has gone, 
To that beautiful home being called to atone 
For a life full of withering blights. 



Thou art gone to abide with saints of light 
In the city whose streets of gold, so bright. 
Oft resounds to the tread of thy spouse, who his crown 
At the feet of the Lord has gladly cut down — 
^li ! Sweet tho't, heaven's gift can requite ! 



36 MEM0RIALS— A FRAGMICjS^T. 



Memorials-— A Fragment. 



We may forget a monument of art ; 

Let dear remembrance sanctify a shrine 

Within onr hearts, and let it be revered 

With sacred reverence for the honored name, 

Carve a statue to tliat name, of Love, 

Witli hands that hang not cold and stiff in stone 

Nor sightless orbs, nor heart encased in marble, 

Nor feet that cling to one hard block of art ; 

But witli free hands tha.t freely give to want, 

And eyes that beam with kindly sympathy, 

And with a heart that throbs with charity, 

And with swift feet to seek out want or woe ; 

Perpetuate his words and deeds of love ; 

For he, tho' gone forever from our midst, 

Is well desei'vmg tears should vi^et his grave — 

A tribute nobler far than polished stone, 

For monuments which pierce the air, and break 

The force of storms ; on whose smooth face the feet 

Of lightening slip, or, squarely striking it, 

Rebound from its cold surface with a shudder, 

Are not as meet to bear a good man's name 

As one which pierces darkened clouds of woe 

And lets the light of joy in on the soul, 

Or one which breaks from oft' a helpless head 

The storms of anguish, with which life is full, 

And shields the unprotected from the darts 

Of diabolic men, or hurls them back, 

With increased tire, at their own black hearty. 



NO SLEEP IN HE AY EN. 37 



No Sleep in Heaven. 



1. 



Do angels sleep? 
When o'er our sins and cares thej^ weep, 
And round our beds their vigils keep, 
And sorrow, do they ever steep 

Their souls in lanquor deep ? 

Do they not sometime peep 

Thro' half-closed eyes, and sleep ? 

No. Angels do not sleep. 



Does Jesus sleep, 
Who o'er our sins and cares did weep 
And on His heart our guilt did heap '. 
Does He a faithless vigil keep, 

Who sowed, that we might reap? 

No, .lesus does not sleep. 



3. 



Will Christians sleep, 
AVhen from the chrysalis they creep 
And on bright wings of glory leap — 
AVhen o'er the pillowy clouds they peep 
And watch the twilight shadows creep, 
While they the love-light reap X 
No, Christians will not sleep. 



4. 



No sleep in heaven ! 
Will not this boon to us be given— 
This precious boon for which we've striven, 
Our Ijearts with trouble being driven 
To hope for rest in heaven ? 



38 ^O SLEEI* In PtEAVEN"* 



5. 



Will Sorrow kiss 
The blooming cheeks of rapturous Bliss 
And rapturous Bliss return the kiss ? 
Or will the arrows from the deep abyss 
Of grief, our spirits miss, 
And, harmless, b}^ us hiss? 



Will raem'ry's darts 
With tho'ts of sorrow pierce otif hearts? 
Can we recall the woeful parts 
Of life, and feel the painful smarts 
Of cruel mem'rj's darts? 

7. 

We'll wakeful be ; 

No cause we'll have to sleep, that we 

May thus forget our misery ; 

For Sorrow from our hearts will liee, 

And disappointments tind in thee, 
Oh, place of rest, a tree 
Whose healing leaves are free* 



In sweet repose 
We will recall our many woes. 
But never more can feel their throes. 
The River of Life forever flows 
Up there, and the love-light ever glows. 
No saint nor angel pain e'er knows, 
For there, oh, there, the rose 
In thornless beauty blows. 



FINIS. 




»»• - < • 




















" -^^.^ 




o. 







Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date; Sept. 2009 



.'ixW^'o ^^^ A^ y^^^ \ .^ PreservationTechnologies ; 






^-^^-^^ 



A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 

111 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 16066 
(724)779-2111 






<v ., 'P- "". Ay ^ 















^^^'V 
"^^ ^ 















sPv!> 



>0 it. - 




0* 











^ 



















V 



m4f 






